


different in the dark

by julianbashir



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mentions of Canonical Substance Abuse, Non-Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-20 03:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17014638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julianbashir/pseuds/julianbashir
Summary: The last thought of Shirley Crain's too-short life, between the final, futile plea and the ungentle kiss of rope, is,Nelly was right.





	different in the dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Major](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Major/gifts).



> For the prompt: _Shirley seemed like the most put together of the bunch. I'd love an AU where it wasn't Nell that killed herself but Shirley. How would the family have reacted differently to that since I imagine it would have come as an even bigger surprise?_
> 
> Some show dialogue is used in the Theo scene.
> 
> Title from show dialogue.
> 
> _Olivia: It's just a house.  
>  Mrs. Dudley: Maybe. It's very different in the night. It's **different in the dark**. But you know that, don't you?_

The last thought of Shirley Crain's too-short life, between the final, futile plea and the ungentle kiss of rope, is, _Nelly was right_.

 

#

 

Nell's a light sleeper by nature, plagued in turn by nightmares and insomnia as far back as her memory reaches. Startling awake in the dead of night is as familiar as the sound of her galloping heart, blood pounding like a bass drum in her aching skull. It takes long moments of staring blearily at the bedroom ceiling before she realizes why she feels so unmoored.

No sleep paralysis.

Nell swipes a trembling hand over her damp forehead and works to steady her breathing. In, out. In, out. In --

The sudden vibration of her phone rattling on the side table deepens the creeping sense of unreality. Nell half wonders if she's still asleep when the screen informs her that it's her father calling. They usually talk Sunday afternoons and Wednesday evenings and he never, ever would interrupt a hopefully-good night's rest. Not without reason.

"Daddy?"

"Nell." He sounds wrecked, voice scraped raw from the depths of his throat. Her name is half-swallowed by the howl of wind past car windows. "I...Nell, sweetheart. I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Her fingers tighten around the phone, pressing the comforting sound of Hugh Crain's voice into the shell of her ear. He talks and talks and talks until the moment when she suddenly understands.

Of course.

Death will always come in the dark to steal away what Eleanor Crain holds dear. Death and Hill House.

 

#

 

Theo is not prepared for this.

She sits at her older sister's kitchen table across from her older sister's shell shocked husband and they're both just...unprepared.

Shirley was good with the mundane realities of death. Logistics. Shirley was a wizard when it came to walking other people through their feelings and misconceptions about the process of parting ways with the physical remains of their loved ones.

Theo? She's done everything short of fully and forcibly excising her own feelings of loss. The process was most easily compared to eviscerating herself with a carrot peeler and sewing herself back together, minus a lot of things she probably needed. The aftermath has been painful and horrible, but she's mostly functional if she doesn't dwell on her haphazard stitch job too much.

Anyway. Theo is not prepared for this.

"The kids." Kevin stares into his brandy like it's going to whisper the answers to him, like it's going to fix this.

Theo knows from experience: nothing will fix this.

"The kids." A sigh, this time.

Kevin circles the sleeve of his sweater over a ring of condensation his drink left on the table. Shirley would've already been grabbing a microfiber cloth from the set under the sink, setting their drinks on coasters, clucking her tongue, but no verbal rebuke. Just stiff shoulders and tightness at the corners of her eyes. Her uncanny ability to radiate disappointment always impressed Theo.

Goddammit, Shirley.

"The kids are going to ask me how she died."

"And you'll tell them."

Kevin barks a laugh, sharp and mirthless. There's an edge of hysteria that has Theo dreading the inevitable crying jag once this all actually sinks in.

Theo has never been particularly fond of Kevin.

(Somewhere, somehow, somewhen Shirley is laughing herself sick at that extreme understatement.)

The thing about Kevin is that he keeps his feelings lingering on the surface. She can absorb them through her pores if she gets too close. Some people are just like that. They can't help it; they have no idea. Why would they? But it means that Kevin is exhausting for Theo on a good day. In the long shadows cast by the lone light over the kitchen sink less than an hour after they got the news? Kevin is a nightmare of tenuously reigned grief and cascading feelings of hopelessness and anguish.

Theo's fingers spasm against crystal, the silk of her gloves an eerie whisper in the still room.

"Tell them what? She killed herself?" If Kevin was the sort of man to sneer, he'd be sneering at her now. But for all Kevin's faults, he's not that kind of man. So he just stares at her, a look of bafflement on his blandly handsome face. "Their mother killed herself."

The part of Theo's brain that never quite switches off notes that Kevin still hasn't said her name. It's 'she' and 'their mother,' and earlier with the cops it was 'my wife.' Not Shirley. Not yet.

"Yes." Theo tosses back the last of her drink. She sets it on the table with a snap of crystal on wood, rising from her seat. She does her best to school her face into a look that expresses anything other than mild distaste and the creeping exhaustion engulfing her, mind and body. "That's better than lying."

She makes her way back to the guest house, flinching at the muffled sound of Kevin's sobs as the porch door swings shut.

Theo can't stand the weepers.

 

#

 

The head night nurse comes for Luke just after five. He's been staring at the ceiling with a growing feeling of disquiet for what feels like years. The hazy fingers of dawn are already creeping their way through the curtains, or maybe that's just the orange glow of the path lights in the sprawling botanical garden.

There's a visitor to see him, her second attempt in as many days.

Visitors aren't allowed at this latest center, not until 100 days clean, which can only mean this isn't just Nell sneaking in a little early.

It's a family emergency.

They recognized Nelly yesterday from when she and Dad dropped him off three months ago. Plus, she never changed the name on her license, so their last names still match. Twinned in this as in all things.

The fact that they're letting her see him today when they wouldn't yesterday doesn't bode well. Fear curls low in his gut, sharp and hot.

When they usher Nell into the small visitor's room where Luke's perched on a too-stiff floral couch, hands clammy and hair standing up in the back of his neck, he rises to his feet so quickly he knocks a decorative pillow onto the ground. Nell cracks a minuscule grin as he fumbles for it and replaces it on the couch.

"Hey." Her lips tremble while she tries to maintain the grin.

Luke scrapes up a smile from somewhere, because it's Nell. He'll always have a smile for her, always did, even in the shittiest days when she was literally pulling him out of a gutter somewhere. God, he loves her. Sometimes it makes his chest ache with how much. She's the best friend anyone could ask for. The best other half.

"Hey, Nelly."

Her face just...crumples. She hasn't looked like this since Arthur. He hasn't seen circles under her eyes like that since she went to stay with Dad after the funeral. It was a month before she could do much more than bathe and eat and sleep, repeat. It had terrified him to see her like...well, like him during the bad times. The worst times, when even Dad and Nell looked at him with sorrow in their eyes they couldn’t quite hide.

Luke tucks Nell’s face into the crook of his neck and her tears are a hot brand on his skin. Her arms are too thin and they quiver where they wrap around his neck.

"It's Shirley," she whispers. Cold slices down his spine, sharp and familiar as a needle. He clings tighter to her, waits for the killing blow to land. "Luke, the house got Shirley."

92 days, it's been 92 days and now this.

Luke's going to miss his morning meeting. They've got a plane to catch. And, if he's got anything to say about it, a house to burn to the godforsaken ground.

 

#

 

Steve is exhausted down to the very marrow of his bones by the time he slides the deadbolt into place.

He hates research trips almost as much as he hates book tours. At least he's a little more honest on research trips, but he feels a pang of guilt every time he sees the hope slip from the eyes of someone with a 'haunting.'

People think Steve can help them, but the reality is there's nothing there to help. Ghosts can be a lot of things. But mostly they're just echoes of their own pain, nothing to be banished.

Steve’s phone rings and he drops his bag on the table, digging in his pocket until he wrestles the damn thing free from underneath his keys and half a pack of gum.

Why the hell would Dad be calling at this time of night?

"What do you need, Dad?"

That would normally earn him a drawled _hello to you, too, Steven_ , but Hugh is quiet on the other end of the line, just a slow, shaky exhalation through the heavy static.

"Steve, I'm afraid I've got some bad news. It's your sister."

"Nell? Is she alright?"

"Not --" The line cuts out for a long beat and Steve pulls the phone from his ear, wondering if he lost him. "--irley. I'm getting on a plane in an hour, but I'd be grateful if you and Leigh could help the twins with travel arrangements. I know you two have been going through a rough patch, but I can't imagine she wouldn't want to be there. I know they finally buried the hatchet over Christmas last year. And Nell already went to the center to get Luke."

"Dad, I missed half of that. Why are you getting on a plane?"

"It's Shirley, Steve." Dad's voice is shaky and thin in a way Steve hasn't heard it in years. "I'm damned sorry to break it to you over the phone. They found her at Hill House."

"Shirley hasn't been back to the house since we moved, Dad, she wouldn't --"

"I'm afraid she did, Steve. They found her body hanging from the spiral staircase."

"Her...body?"

"She's dead. I'm sorry, I'm so goddamned sorry to tell you like this, son. But I need your help. Can you get in touch with Nell and Luke and make sure they have enough money to get on a plane? I'll pay you back, but I don't want them worrying about it right now. Theo and Kevin and the kids will need all of you there."

It's like the static has moved from the phone to between Steve's ears and nothing...nothing makes any sense. How could Shirley...she wouldn't do that. She'd sounded odd on the phone, yesterday, but he just thought maybe they were having money troubles again and she was too stubborn to outright ask him for money. Shirley can't possible be --

Steve startles at a sound behind him. He knows he bolted the door, what could possibly be --

"Shirley? Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. What are you -- "

 

#

 

Hugh Crain stands at the gates of Hill House. He flicks on his flashlight, takes a steadying breath, and begins the long walk up the drive.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt really snagged hold of me and I kept turning it over and over in my mind, wondering what might have changed if it was Shirley instead of Nell. Something would've had to be different earlier in the timeline. And I thought: oh. What if the kids stayed with Hugh instead of going to live with their aunt? And thus the entire universe shifted a step to the left.


End file.
